Lowe High School - Towers Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

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The Windsor- ' WalkerviHe Technical School Year Book 17 THE GHOST OF HARVEY HARLOWE Prize Story—Gladys Kerr—C3A. “ )h no, of course not! Shelley laugTied a nervous little laugh as she drew her chair close to the dy¬ ing embers in the fire-place. I never never believe a ghost story when read, or told hv someone else, but this is what did actually happen to my chum and me two years ago. “It was while our club of girls was camping on a small island near the Bay of Fundy, that Lenore and I heard from the old light-house keeper the story of young Harvey Harlowe, his dramatic death, and his return every autumn in the form of a monstrous spectre to haunt and keep in constant terror the people of the little fishing hamlet who were indirectly the cause of his death. “The story fascinated us. The in¬ evitable evidence of his reality given by the unique teller set our pulses tingling with a craving for adventure, and we decided to be alert for any signs of the returning Harlowe so that we, too, might share in a personal knowledge of this strange spectre. “()ne evening as the camp was re¬ turning by a backwoods path from the village, where we had been spending a social hour with friends, Lenore and 1 unconsciously lagged a little behind the rest, who were in a hurry to reach the cove where our launch was tied before darkness was completely upon us. “As we passed an empty and ram¬ shackle old house along the path, we saw a flash of light go past one of the broken windows. Clutching each other in suppressed terror we waited, hardly daring to breathe, for an¬ other sign from what we were sure was the ghost of Harlowe. We paused a moment, while the voices of the girls grew fainter and fainter, for another signal of the ghost. None came. We waited again in breathless suspense, and as all seemed quiet, crept through the tall and tangled weeds to the shack, pausing every few steps to listen. The old door was broken in, so we cautiously crept inside. “Squeak! Squeak!” went every step on the warped and rotted boards while the cchocing squeak came back through the gruesome stillness. My knees began to tremble beneath me, as the squeaking of the floor grated on my nerves, and pulling Lenore down be¬ side me, I sank upon the floor to wait. “We waited for what seemed to be an age, not daring to whisper, and conscious only of the wild palpitat¬ ing of our hearts. There was still no sign of our ghost, and we rose to depart, when suddenly, from the attic of the old building, came a rustling sound like dried leaves frolicking over a beaten path on a windy day. The sound increased and changed to a weird melody. Out of this a voice became discernible. It rose flute-like and then fell like the dying wind. “Lenore and 1 clutched each other with such strength that our muscles ached with the intensity of the mo¬ ment. The beads of perspiration stood out on my forehead, while I could feel creepy little chills chas¬ ing each other up and down my back. The noise became louder and louder, and the voice became more distinct. I tried to move but I was glued to the spot, paralysed with dread for we could now hear a step on the rickety old stairs. “Suddenly against the broken win¬ dow near the staircase we beheld the Phantom. Silhouetted against the grey sky of the west, he resembled the “Loup Garou,” or half man, half

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16 The Windsor-VValkerville Technical School Year Book How many of us can give ourselves up to real honest thinking? 1 do not mean pondering over the petty, everyday things of life, but concentrating on truly great problems. We are too busy to think. Dr. F. M. Rice, in a recent lecture told of an amusing experience. A friend of his at college told him that his greatest thoughts came either when he was alone in the dark, or when out in the woods in a rainstorm. The distinguished Doctor had great faith in his friend’s judgment, and on one stormy night he climbed out of bed, left the house, and after trudging two miles through a greasy gumbo road, he reached a small wood. Soaked to the skin and as cold as ice, he sat down on a log and waited for his thought. None came. However, as he started homeward one truly great thing did cross his mind, and that was, “What a fool l was to think I could think like this.” Thinking is a thing that is almost entirely inspirational. The reason that inspirations come so seldom is hard to concieve. Dr. Rice says it is because everyone is trying to be like everyone else. We are afraid to try our own wings. We are too busy to think. Is the sacrifice worth while? The sacrifice of our truly beautiful thoughts for the hum-drum life that everyone else is living? This world needs in¬ dividuality. It must be cultivated, and it can never be realized until we develop real thinkers. GLADYS KERR—C3A. STAFF CHANGES We regretfully record the withdrawal from the teaching staff during the past year of three members. There is, however, consolation in the fact that these withdrawals have been due not to the superior lure of other schools but to other considerations. Miss J. Walbridge is living in Bennington, Yt„ and has opened a cloth¬ ing shop. Miss Walbridge s change of occupation is an illustration of the close co-ordination between technical education and the field of commerce and industry. Mr. J. C. Harston, B.A.. is teaching at the Vaughan Road High School. Mr. A. A. Lowther, B.A., is studing at Knox College, Toronto, in prepara¬ tion for the Presbyterian ministry. Tech welcomes six new members of the staff. Miss Jean Beasley, B.A.. a specialist in Household Science and in Physical Culture, came from the Walkerville Collegiate Institute. Miss Beasley has taken charge of the girls’ physical training work. Miss Damares Beattie is teaching dressmaking and to her department the various school organizations are much indebted for assistance in costume and designing. Miss Beattie taught formerly in the Vocational School at St. Catherines. Miss May Connerty, B.A., came from the College of Education. Miss Connerty teaches English and Physical Training and her musical skill is of great assistance in school activities. Miss Emilie LeBoeuf has had the task of iniating the new Art depart¬ ment. The whole school has appreciated the work of Miss LeBoeuf’s de¬ partment in the scenery painted by it for school concert. Mr. H. Voaden, M.A., is a Specialist in English and History and comes from the Glebe Collegiate, Ottawa. In spite of the fact that Mr. V oaden in¬ herited sevral activitis that take much time after class hours he has established and successfully carried out a comprehensive programme of inter-form contests in debating, oratory and concert programmes. Mr. G. R. West, B.A.Sc., comes from the College of Education and is teaching Machine Shop Practice and Mechanical drawing.

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18 The Windsor-YVaikerville Technical School Year Book wolf, that we had been reading of in ancient legends. Half fainting we could feel rather than hear his ap¬ proach towards us. With a panther¬ like tread he came, and strange to note, there was no squeaking of the boards when he stepped. Trembling like a leaf 1 was transfixed by the maniacal stare that fiixed itself on me. A horrible arm stretched out to me. with claw-like fingers open¬ ing and closing convulsively. It drew nearer and nearer until only a few inches from my face. Then then long fingers settled themselves in my hair, and as 1 felt the horrible death-cold touch. I sank senseless to the floor. “A sharp cry recalled me to my senses, and as I opened my eyes 1 saw the girls with the guide bending over us. When our strength re¬ turned we told them all. The guide stroked his long white beard, and solemnly predicted that Harvey llarlmve would come no more to the village. “Such has been the case. The villagers say that his touch on a human person has killed his power to return again. If so, I am glad but 1 do not wish the honour of being the means of ridding another town of its evil spirit. -o- ALIAS SUZANNE “Karate, have you seen my skat¬ ing sweater?” asked Marilyn as she entered the room where her brother was sitting. “Marilyn Rogers, you ' er not going skating again tonight! You’re a fine kind of sister to have . You promised to help me fix this blotn- ing radio tonight.” “Well I promised the girls— be¬ gan Marilyn but Ernest interrupted: “Call ' em’ up and tell ’em your cousin from California is here visit¬ ing.” Then seeing the doubtful ex¬ pression on Marilyn’s face he went on: “They ' ll never know the difference anyway. If you stay home and help me fix the radio tonight I’ll take you skating every night next week.” “Well.’ ' said Marilyn, “it’s not a very nice thing to do but I’ll do it this time for your sake.” A few minutes later Earnest chuckled to himself as he heard his sister at the telephone. “Hello—Is that you Louise?—I ' m awfully sorry but I can’t go skating with you tonight. My cousin Suzanne Andrews is here from Cali¬ fornia and as she doesn’t skate I’ll have to stay at home.—No, I couldn’t do that.—Yes. Well good¬ bye Louise. I’ll see you tomorrow. “There, Eartiie,” she said merrily. “The fatal deed is done. Now let’s get to work on the radio.” Ten minutes passed, then the telephone rang and Marilyn left the room to answer it. A moment later she was back with tragedy written on her face. “Now you have done it Tiarnest Rogers! Louise Booklaud just phoned and said that the girls had decided to postpone the skating party and now they’re coming up here to meet “my cousin Suzanne.” It’s your fault too. Now what are we going to do about it. “They’re coming up here. Gosh 1” said Ernest looking up from his work. “Isn’t that just like a pack of girls! But, say, Marivln, I’ve got a swell idea.” “You’re full of great ideas,” re¬ marked Marilyn scornfully. “Well this one is a good one,” went on Earnest. “Now listen care¬ fully. I’ll dress up in some of your duds and you tell them I’m your cousin. They know Mom and Dad are in Chicago and you can tell them I ' ve gone too.” “But won’t they recognize you? asked Marilyn doubtfully. “Not when I ' m fixed up. Now don’t get excited. J ust dig out some of your things for me to wear. Oh they won ' t recognize me when I get dolled up.” Five minutes later he was back and Marilyn had to admit that his own mother would not have known him. On his head was a blonde curly wig which he had worn in a college